


Captive

by yeaka



Series: Sucked In [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Ficlet, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nesting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29143899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Gladiolus should take Noctis to work.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Series: Sucked In [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141448
Comments: 17
Kudos: 90





	Captive

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s weird to knock on Ignis’ door and not get any answer—he’s normally so on top of everything. He puts his duty first, even when he’s spiraling into heat, his eyes dilated and fogged up with _lust_ but his voice still straining to be steady, his orders still in tact. He’s usually on his feet again the second it’s scheduled to end; as soon as the hormones start subsiding, Ignis stamps _all_ of them down. Then he’ll shoot Gladiolus a text with the usual inane work-related chitter-chatter and he’ll answer the door when Gladiolus comes calling. 

But every once in a while, he gets sucked into heat prematurely just by hanging around Prompto, or Noctis will bury too far past all of his defenses. When Ignis doesn’t answer the first knock, Gladiolus knows that someone else is in there. He whips his phone out for another text, but Ignis doesn’t answer. Which means his hands are probably tied. Maybe literally. Maybe Noctis is pinning him down and ramming into him over and over again and making him _scream_ —the walls in Ignis’ building are decently thick and could muffle that. Maybe Gladiolus should assume the worst and leave them to it, except Ignis specifically asked him to make sure Noctis still made his regular training schedule, and when Noctis doesn’t answer another pushy text, he’s sure that Noctis is on the other side of the door.

Fortunately, he has a key. They all have keys to each other’s places, but Gladiolus has had Ignis’ the longest. He doesn’t usually use it, not if he can help it, because Ignis isn’t the sort of person to welcome uninvited guests in the middle of his busy work week. It’s a Wednesday, and Ignis’ heat should be _just_ ending, so they should all be going back to normal.

Gladiolus twists the lock, steps inside, and instantly knows that nothing’s normal. The whole apartment is soaked in scents—Gladiolus doesn’t have to see the stains to know that Ignis has been bent over the couch, the coffee table, the kitchen counter, fucked on the floor in several places and hiked up against the wall. Sweat, sex, and pheromones are everywhere. The familiar cologne Ignis always buys for Noctis is sprinkled over everything. Gladiolus follows it on instinct, even though he’d know where Ignis was anyway—after a long, thorough fucking, Ignis always likes to retire to a nice, soft mattress. In the deepest throes of heat, he _always_ migrates back to his nest. 

He always makes that nest on his bed, and this isn’t any exception. Gladiolus strolls into the bedroom and sees them both lying there, prince and advisor, all twisted up in each other’s limbs and sheets. They’re both naked, _completely_ naked—a cream-colour sheet covers Ignis’ trim waist but not the taut hump of his rear. Noctis looks just as bare, just as flushed and sweat-slicked, glistening in a coat of drying liquids. A few pink-red bite marks line his shoulders, but nowhere near as much as Ignis wears, mixed in with finger and scratch marks raking down his back. His glasses are on the night table beside him, his normally gelled hair a wild mess about his chiseled face. He looks less aristocratic than usual, more filthy and debauched, still utterly _gorgeous_ , way too handsome for a dirtied man in sore need of a shower. When his eyes open, they’re almost entirely black, and he looks blankly at Gladiolus before groaning and arching into Noctis. 

Noctis seems to be fast asleep, because of course he would be: sleeping on the job when he’s supposed to be coaxing Ignis back to the waking world. Gladiolus wrinkles his nose in annoyance but knows that half his irritation is just jealousy. Not that he couldn’t have been there if he wanted. He promised Iris he’d drive her to the mall yesterday and got stuck with a family dinner. Not that he doesn’t love his family. But he really loves nailing Ignis. 

Ignis shudders and bites his lower lip, peering back to Gladiolus and muttering helplessly, “Please, Gladio...” He pauses to gasp as Noctis stirs, rolling over to nuzzle into the crux of his neck and throw an arm possessively around his waist. He licks his lips and tries again, “Noct...” He can’t seem to finish. He swings his hips into Noctis’, meeting under a thin tendril of tangled sheets and dragging their bodies together. Gladiolus doesn’t know what his friend is trying to tell him.

His blood’s pounding in his ears. The alpha in him is _raging_. Noctis is so ridiculously _lucky_ , and he doesn’t even know it. He’s a lazy cat enjoying his own nap while his eager omega is pleading for his touch. He should be honoured. Flattered. It takes a lot to string out Ignis’ heat when it’s supposed to be wrapping up—he takes so much medication and meditates and rejects so many sought-after glaives that half the Citadel thinks Ignis doesn’t even have heats at all. Yet Ignis is still struggling to form a full sentence, and in the meantime is nuzzling at his prince’s face like that sweet caress is worth so much more than the structure of their city. 

Gladiolus stares at them. He tries to look away but can’t. He should fixate on something else in the room—the wall calendar completely covered in Ignis’ notes or the open computer still humming away with a word document up, because of course Ignis was working right up until the last second. He’s unique like that. They need to respect him. Do what he wants. What regular, sober, not-sex-crazed him wants. 

Gladiolus grits his teeth and forces out, “Noct, we have to go to training.”

Noctis makes a grumbling noise. So he is awake. He’s latching onto Ignis but not moving any more than that—not even meeting Ignis’ rolling hips halfway. He seems perfectly content to just sleep in Ignis’ nest like it was made for him instead of Ignis’ recovery. 

“Noct...”

“Take him,” Ignis groans, giving Noctis’ side a little shove but still grinding between his legs. It tells Gladiolus there is hope—regular-Ignis is in there somewhere. 

“ _Noct._ ”

“Sleeping,” Noctis mutters, like that’s any excuse to miss work and ruin Ignis. 

It’s not, and somebody has to do something about that. Clearly, Ignis isn’t equipped to. Gladiolus loves him enough to be that steady someone. 

Gladiolus reaches down and grabs Noctis’ bare ankle, tugging it so hard that Noctis yelps and goes flying over the edge of the bed, toppling the outer wall of the nest. Gladiolus keeps pulling until Noctis is a pile on the floor, then scrambling to his feet, glaring at Gladiolus, except he’s so much smaller and so naked that the effect’s more cute and appealing than intimidating. Gladiolus tries to look at him instead of Ignis, not because he’s any less tempting, but because the pheromones of another alpha are easier to deal with than the desperation of an omega. It’s a good thing nobody called Prompto over to squirm around in the nest too, or Gladiolus wouldn’t stand a chance of being reasonable. 

He points to the door and barks, “Out, _now_.”

Noctis’ face is furious. But Gladiolus squares up against him, broad and hopefully imposing, all bulging muscles that he’s willing to use if he has to. It takes a few sizzling seconds, but Noctis seems to realize he won’t win the battle. He turns to storm for the door, but Gladiolus grabs his arm and points to the pile of clothes by the dresser first—Noctis rolls his eyes and marches over to change. Those clothes will have to go right in the wash later, but there’s no point showering before the kind of workout Gladiolus is about to give him. 

Gladiolus intends to stay in the room only long enough to supervise, except Ignis murmurs, “ _Gladio_.” And Gladiolus has to turn to look, because the moan that spills from Ignis’ throat is the most erotic thing he’s ever heard. 

Ignis has managed to sit up in bed, now perched in the middle of the mattress, right where Noctis used to be, because of course Noctis sprawled out in the very middle like he owned the place. Of course Ignis let him. For all their talk of trying to make Noctis mature, Ignis is still the most indulgent. It’s no surprise Ignis turned over his nest to Noctis’ whims. Ignis looks painfully alone without that company—just one lithe omega atop a queen-sized bed, glimmering in the early light through the open curtains and so beautiful that Gladiolus is painfully hard. 

He can’t help it. Ignis reeks of _want_ and makes the most divine little sounds. He looks desperate, needy, but Gladiolus knows how capable he really is, how fierce and independent. This is just a rare moment of weakness that Gladiolus could satiate. Maybe the heat’s just lingering because Noctis wasn’t alpha enough to fuck it out, but Gladiolus could. 

Ignis sucks in a breath and rasps, “Yes, he... he needs to make his appointment... but... perhaps Cor could train him today... and... you could stay instead...?”

Noctis squawks, “What?!” from the corner. Gladiolus is numb.

Ignis crawls to the edge of the bed where a thick knot of blankets used to be, but is now draped down to the floor. He doesn’t seem to mind the mess, though he’s always so meticulous when he’s first putting his nest together. He reaches out and lets his long fingers brush Gladiolus’ wrist, lightly drawing down. He gives Gladiolus’ hand a little tug. “I only... need a few more hours, and then I...”

He doesn’t have to explain. Gladiolus is already broken. He can’t help it. He’s only human. He lurches down and slams his mouth into Ignis’, tilting right away and shoving out his tongue, prying Ignis open and curling up inside. Ignis moans like it’s all he’s ever wanted, rising up into the touch. His fingers run through Gladiolus’ hair, and he tries to tug Gladiolus forward—Gladiolus lets himself go, lets Ignis topple backwards and take Gladiolus with him. Climbing up onto the bed, Gladiolus stays over Ignis on all fours, kissing him right down into the mattress. 

He never could deny Ignis. But Ignis will kick his ass when it’s over. He thinks it’ll be worth it. 

He feels the mattress dip and breaks the train of kisses just long enough to see Noctis scrambling to join them, curling defiantly up in the nest and hunkering down like a sack of bricks that’s never going anywhere. Ignis frowns.

Gladiolus tries to compromise: “I’ll drag him out after I fuck you.” Ignis parts his lips, but Gladiolus is already pressing down between his legs, rubbing their bodies together, grinding his jean-covered cock against Ignis’ hard shaft. Ignis gasps, head lolling aside, and then dizzily nods. Gladiolus guilty promises, “I’ll train him. Today. Seriously.”

Noctis reaches between them for Ignis’ hand, takes it up to his lips for a kiss, and then rolls over and tugs Ignis with him into a spooning position. Gladiolus already knows he’s made a grave mistake. No wonder Noctis is such a spoiled brat. 

Gladiolus can’t be the one to spank him this time. Ignis’ ass is the one that needs tenderizing. Gladiolus sits up and grabs Ignis’ thigh with one hand, reaching into his pocket with the other. He pulls Ignis into his lap and sends a quick text to Prompto requesting backup— _somebody’s_ got to save them from themselves. 

It won’t be Gladiolus, who slides into Ignis’ already dripping channel with familiar ease, already totally enraptured.


End file.
